


Perfume from the South

by Esteliel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Angst, Gen, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esteliel/pseuds/Esteliel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There was the sound of steps then, and the familiar rhythm made him shudder with dread. No one else could make him feel so terrified with nothing but the soft sound of step after step, carelessly coming closer until it stopped, and he found himself looking at a boot in front of his face with breathless horror.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfume from the South

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AeonDelirium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeonDelirium/gifts).



He flinched when she sat down next to him. He did not like it when they touched him. And she was so close that he could feel the warmth of her skin, the softness of her body, all of it reminding him of how eternally cold he was, how his hands were the bony, starved skeleton of an old man. She giggled softly and moved even closer, her ample bosom pressing against his arm so that he wanted to cringe in fear of Ramsay observing this.

“It _is_ you, m'lord,” she said with amusement, smiling widely to show somewhat crooked teeth behind full, red lips. “Martha in the kitchens told me, but I didn't want to believe her. I told her I'd had a lord before, when I worked in the inn by the mill, a lordling who said he was a prince and who left me a golden coin after fucking me three times one afternoon in the stables. And he looked like a lordling too, m'lord, all velvets and silks and fancy clothes, and had a real nice cock. He moaned all pretty when I sucked it. Martha said you won't moan ever again, or fuck a whore in a stable, or on a table, or in a bed.”

She was still smiling at him, biting those plump red lips that almost woke a memory in him.

_No, no, not me, that wasn't me, remember your name. You're Reek. Reek is Ramsay's creature. Ramsay would never let you have a whore, even if you were still a man..._

She giggled a little and slid a small hand up his thigh, so that he jerked away violently, upending his bowl of thin gruel. Some of it hit her dress of worn, brown linen, spattering across her chest like drops of white come, and for a moment, he thought he remembered her kneeling in the straw, all bold and pretty in a common way, the way he'd laughed and grabbed her hair...

_No. No, that wasn't me. You must remember your name. Reek never had a whore._

She laughed as he cowered on the floor. He wanted to curl up miserably, thinking with sudden longing of how safe he had felt, sleeping with Ramsay's girls. No one had approached him then. No servants or whores had come to gloat, and the bodies of the girls had been warm at night. All of that was better than sitting here on a bench. eating gruel as if he belonged here, when where he belonged in truth was with them, just another of Ramsay's pets.

There was the sound of steps then, and the familiar rhythm made him shudder with dread. No one else could make him feel so terrified with nothing but the soft sound of step after step, carelessly coming closer until it stopped, and he found himself looking at a boot in front of his face with breathless horror.

_He won't hurt you if you behave_ , he told himself, though panic was rising in the back of his mind. _But she touched me, she talked to me and smiled at me and called me lord. He'll hurt me for that, he'll take another finger, oh please, I never asked for her to sit with me..._

"Reek, what are you doing there on the ground? Have you no manners at all?" Ramsay laughed, and he could hear the girl giggle again.

_Foolish girl. He doesn't care for whores or your soft lips or clever hands. He cares for how fast you will run, how good a hunt you will give him..._

"I'm sorry, m'lord," he said as he tried to sit up, thinking desperately of what else Ramsay might want to hear.

The whore saved him then, moving closer, pressing her soft, curvy body against Ramsay so that he stared in terrified fascination. 

_Does she not know? Did no one tell her...? Does she think he is like any other man, that she can trick him with her charms?_

"I came to look at him, m'lord," she said with a teasing smile, red lips pouting. "I've met him before. I wanted to make him show me his pretty cock again. He liked it _so much_ when I told him how big and hard he was, that I've never seen a man like that before, endowed like a stallion..." She giggled again. "But he didn't want to. Make him show me, m'lord. I just want to admire him again."

He cringed at her words, not from the memories, because those were not his memories. _I'm Reek, Reek, it rhymes with weak._ Reek had never touched a whore. But you did not demand anything from Ramsay. You did not tell him what to do. 

"Is that true, Reek?" Ramsay asked mildly, so that he shuddered slightly at the smile that twisted Ramsay's lips. 

"I don't know her, m'lord," he said desperately, tears rising unbidden to his eyes. Why would she do this to him? He just wanted to be good. He was Reek, Ramsay's creature, and Ramsay wouldn't let a whore touch him unless it was all a trick. Maybe that was what this was. 

"You don't? So you did not like it when she came to sit by you? I saw you. I saw the way she touched you."

He moaned in despair, shaking his head. "I didn't want her to, m'lord, please..."

Ramsay laughed. "You reek. No woman would ever touch you. I think she'd rather fuck a pig than touch you. Isn't that true?"

The girl laughed again in delight at his cruelty. One of her hands rested on his Ramsay's chest, and he could not help but watch in terrified fascination. How could she not know? How could she not see the danger? 

"I would, m'lord," she said and giggled again. "From what I hear, a pig would have more to give me than he does. And it would smell better."

Reek nodded at her words, hoping beyond hope that that was all they wanted of him. Maybe they'd just leave him here, cowering in what remained of his gruel on the floor. Maybe they'd send him to sleep with the pigs, while Ramsay taught that girl what happened to those who thought they could demand or touch him without his leave.

"He stinks as if he rolled around in pig shit, and ate it too. Maybe that's why he reeks like this. It's in him, too. Would you want to touch him if we got rid of the smell?"

She laughed with pleasure, clutching Ramsay's arm, so that he felt sick again at her daring. "I don't think you can, m'lord. I've never smelled anything so bad! But he was pretty once, a real lord. The other girls didn't even want to believe me until I showed them the coin he gave me."

Ramsay's boot nudged at him. He looked up, biting back a soft whimper of denial. That had never happened to Reek.

"Would you like that, Reek? Your very presence offends me with your smell. Would you like to get rid of it to please me?"

He stared in confusion, hesitating too long with an answer so that Ramsay grew annoyed, kicking him instead of nudging. Reek clutched his stomach protectively and nodded quickly. "Of course, m'lord, whatever you ask of me. I am your servant, I'll do anything to please you!"

Ramsay smiled down at him at that, his pale eyes as cold and merciless as the moon shining down on snow. So pale... like milk-white worms squirming in the rotting flesh of a corpse. "Good Reek. I think I owe you a reward for your service. Would you like a reward?"

Reek hesitated again, uncertain what game they were playing, but then forced himself to speak before Ramsay could kick him again. "Serving m'lord is all the reward I could hope for..." he said helplessly, looking up into Ramsay's eyes in a desperate plea for a hint of something, anything to tell him what was expected of him. He knew he didn't deserve any presents, but how could he tell Ramsay no?

Ramsay smiled again, his meaty lips pulling back to reveal sharp teeth beneath. "You'll make a better servant if you don't stink so bad that even the dogs feel sick when they see you." He reached into a pocket to pull out a small bottle of colored glass, then held it out.

"Take it!" he hissed impatiently after a moment, and Reek reached out with a trembling hand, curling the stiff, bony fingers around the phial until they ached with how tightly he clutched it.

"It was a gift for my wife. Perfume from the south." Ramsay grinned, so that just the tips of his teeth were showing. "But she doesn't need it. Not as much as you. Shall we see if this changes anything about the way you stink?” He paused for a moment in anticipation. “Drink it. I want to see if you will still reek like pig shit with that inside you."

Reek pulled off the stopper with aching fingers, almost gagging at the strength of the fragrance that escaped. He wondered if this would kill him. Had Roose Bolton not said that it had almost killed the other Reek?

_But there's only me, and I do what he says. Never disobey, never make him angry, he's a good, kind man if only you behave..._

Ramsay grimaced. "But then, I'm not sure this will make much of a difference. I like the taste of the she-wolf's tears better than whatever this is supposed to smell like. It stinks like rotten fish. You should like it, Reek."

Reek swallowed as he raised the small bottle to his lips. Ramsay kept watching him, no emotion visible in his eyes but a cold calculation, though his lips were slightly parted in what might be amusement or expectation.

_You can't disappoint him_ , he told himself, even as he wanted to cringe away at the strength of the smell. A part of him recognized it - something was familiar, and unbidden a memory rose in his mind, Sansa excitedly dabbing a drop of perfume to her neck, a gift from the queen, while her mother watched with a stony expression. 

He had liked the way it smelled on Sansa, just a hint of fragrance to make him think of burying his face in her hair. There was a trace of that in this perfume too, only here, it was so concentrated that it almost made him sick.

"Go on," Ramsay said, and there was just the barest hint of impatience in his voice, so that Reek cringed and closed his lips around the neck of the bottle. _That's not me. Reek has never known a Sansa._

"Of course, the man who sold me this warned me to make sure that my pretty little wife wouldn't drink it by accident. He said it would kill a grown Direwolf, even though it might take a day or two, or even a week."

Reek shivered, his lips still around the bottle. The scent was overpowering, he could almost taste it on his tongue - it would be bitter, he thought helplessly, as bitter as poison, surely, but how could he drink poison? It would be escape and Ramsay wouldn't let him escape, not ever. There was only the hunt, and it was Ramsay who won the hunt - never the mercy of a fast death at the bottom of a bottle. Yet, how could he refuse a command? He couldn't disobey... he _couldn't_! And yet, maybe at last Ramsay had grow bored of him, no longer needed him, maybe the last thing he would be good for would be a week's amusement as the poison slowly did its work...

He exhaled a trembling breath, feeling helpless and naked as he met Ramsay's gaze, who certainly knew all of his thoughts. He tilted back his head, trembling harder as Ramsay licked his lips. Then, when the perfume hit his tongue with sharp, overwhelming bitterness, Ramsay's meaty fingers closed around his hand, ripping the bottle from his lips.

“You forget yourself,” he hissed. “Stealing my wife's perfume, in the hope that whores won't flinch away from you if you drink it? No whore will ever touch you, even if you paid her with the queen's jewels. Little good it would do you anyway. You're not even a man.”

The girl laughed in pleased amusement. “Oh, just let me see him, m'lord! He used to be so proud of his cock, telling me about all the whores and high-born maids he's had!”

Ramsay turned his attention towards her at last, smiling with predatory delight. “Why, I almost think that you are more interested in him than in me!”

Another peal of laughter escaped her, and she rested her hand boldly on his doublet of pink and crimson. “Never, m'lord! Like you said, he's got nothing a woman would care about!”

“Perhaps I should gift this to you then instead?” He held the bottle out as if to tease her, and she blushed and laughed very prettily, though Reek saw the greed in her eyes as she reached out to quickly to snatch the bottle from Ramsay's hand. 

_How can she be so stupid? Does she not see that he is just playing with her? Did no one tell her anything?_

He almost felt sorry for her, but he found he had forgotten what that felt like. When was the last time he had felt compassion? Maybe it had been driven from him when the dogs surrounded him and Kyra. No, earlier than that even, when they heard the horn in the distance, when she refused to split up...

“Go on then. Drink it.”

She laughed again at Ramsay's words, though there was a first hint of frightened insecurity in it. He found himself strangely calmed by it. He knew how this game worked. It was always the same game, of course, but it was easier to just watch. She shouldn't have made demands. 

Ramsay slapped her after a moment, when she still stared at him in disbelief, the bottle firmly clutched in her hand.

“Drink it, I said,” he hissed. “Perfume is for women – I don't want him to smell like a cheap whore. It will upset the dogs.”

She sobbed softly as he grabbed a fistful of her pretty curls, raising her hand with trembling fingers, though she could not make herself bring the bottle to her lips.

“Please, m'lord,” she sobbed tearfully, “please don't. You said it will poison me!”

“It will be a few days of agony, the Maester promised me.” Ramsay stared at her distress with a hungry smile. “A sad waste of a whore with a pretty mouth, but Yellow Dick might still have his fun for a day or two. And it will teach my Reek a lesson. No whore will ever want you, even if you'd drink a bottle of perfume. Isn't that right, Reek?”

Reek nodded quickly, watching as Ramsay grabbed hold of her hand. Ramsay smiled, that excited smile he knew so well, his bottom lip glistening with spit. He did not even turn his head to look at the girl as he forced the bottle up to her lips. Instead, his eyes rested on Reek's face, who watched with numb horror as Ramsay forced the neck of the bottle past her lips, then yanked her head back, clasping a large hand over her mouth and her nose while she struggled and cried.

It was all in vain, of course. Reek knew that. Reek knew that you never demanded. That you didn't touch. She had made Ramsay angry. She really should have known better. Ramsay was a good man, but you needed to know your place. 

When Ramsay let go of her at last, she fell to the floor, hands clutching at her throat as she coughed and wheezed. Her pretty mouth was bleeding, one of the slightly crooked teeth broken where Ramsay had forced the bottle past without care. 

But no one will look at her mouth anymore anyway, Reek thought, then looked up when Ramsay stepped closer.

“You can't smell a difference, can you?” he said almost kindly, and Reek shook his head. “She still smells like onions and smoke.”

Reek nodded silently. What lingering scent there was rose from the now empty bottle. She still didn't smell any different, though her wailing and crying was distracting. Ramsay wouldn't like that.

“Remember that lesson, Reek. Remember who you are.”

“I'm your Reek, m'lord,” he said without hesitation, and Ramsay's lips twisted into another pleased smile, giving the sobbing girl a kick when she dared to clutch at his leg.


End file.
